


The Good Weakness

by Fangu



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen, Hinted Elena/Tseng, Infidelity, Misandry, Turkfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 02:30:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangu/pseuds/Fangu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day Elena beat twenty of her fellow Turks-in-training in five out of five tests, she celebrated by going out to shoot a man in the kneecap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Good Weakness

 

The day Elena beat twenty of her fellow Turks-in-training in five out of five tests, she celebrated by going out to shoot a man in the kneecap.

This was exactly how it came to pass. The shooting was no accident, although of course presented to their leader as so: Elena had one cup of disgusting spirits with her comrades in training and decided she would go shoot someone. Her first choice was no wanted criminal whose removal would only be a favour to Midgar. Rather, she seeked someone lacking the resources to pursue her crime, heightening her chances of her little celebration going by unnoticed.

And so she found herself prowling the slums of Midgar, appreciating every curious stare sent her way: She welcomed anyone to try. To her disappointment, she apparently radiated a sense of confidence that night. Even for having combed her blonde hair in a most feminine way and put on pink lipgloss, no one dared nor deigned to attack her, like had occurred before on at least three previous incidents wearing this exact, dark blue suit, of which at least one led to a man being blinded along with a pair of bruised balls and a broken nose to match.

Elena did not see herself a great mistress to violence. She considered it more a love for lessons learned. The only way to teach a horse not to touch the flower bed, is to strike it when it tries. Men were like horses in so many ways. The only way to live with them, was to break them in. Midgar was flooding over with men in need of a lesson. Elena did nothing but walk around as her right was as a free woman, merely handling whatever came her way. This very night and the actions it would bring, she decided a treat to herself and the other women of Midgar.

The only thing making this night different from others, was how she for once had planned the move she would make to her attacker up front. She knew she was stretching it. However, she did not intend on making this a habit. _It would be just this once._

Crossing one of the busier streets and heading into a narrow alleyway, she spotted him, the man she knew she would soon shoot. He was leaning against the worn down tin wall, short black hair in the shadows, wearing a filthy coat and shoes too shiny for a beggar. _Perfect._ Elena guessed him a small time shark, big enough to not want quarrel with the authorities, small enough to not have any real power.

“Hey baby”, he called her. Elena kept walking.

“What, I’m not good enough for you?” He pushed away from the wall with a foot, one hand holding a half smoked cigarette between a thumb and an index finger. “I think you’re a little lost. This place is not a nice place. If you value your life, you should accept my advice.”

Elena halted. “Is that so?”

“Oh yes. Very nasty beasties down here. Now, where is it you need to go?”

“I’m looking for the town square.”

“Ah, it is right down this way.” (It was not.) “I’ll escort you there myself.”

“Thank you”, Elena said, disgust rolling in her stomach.

When they rounded the next corner, no more street lamps lighting their way, he went for her neck. Her neck, the coward. Elena’s lip curled into a smile as she twisted out of his embrace, then went for her gun, placing the proper amount of feet between them in the darkness.

“You -- hey --” he had time to say, before Elena had the pleasure of watching his eyes widen as he stared into the mouth of her gun. She smirked, her own eyes narrowing. Then she pointed the gun downwards and fired.

The man screamed as he twisted on the ground. He would not run for as long as he lived. Already before Elena having taking out his knee, he barely stood a chance of pulling together enough gil to fix damage such as this. Finding work would be even harder with a trademark limp.

Elena tucked her gun into place. She knew she would have to move out of here within a couple of minutes. She looked down at the man.

“Did you learn anything from this?”

When he did not answer, she kicked the hands tucked around his knee, having him scream even louder. “Answer me! Did you learn anything?”

“Yes!” he shouted.

“What?”

“That you’re a fucked up bitch, that’s what I learned!”

When his comrades found him, the man not only had a bullet in his knee, but one in his skull as well.

¨

It was bad luck that traced the body back to her. The regular procedure with murders of street scum of this kind was it would glide by unnoticed. But on this particular night, higher officers of Shinra had been in the area seeking out witnesses for a materia-for-gil exchange having taken place the day before. They had heard the sole gunshot and the suspiciousness that came with it, further enhanced by the second gunshot following half a minute later. They found the body along with Elena’s smaller footprints, their trained eyes immediately recognizing the quality of the murder by the entry points of the bullets.

By this fact established, investigators were called over to photograph the body and dig out the bullets. Having completed the latter, the quality of the equipment used for the incident was also confirmed. Any sign of quality crime was to be reported to the office. The report reached the divisional leader the next evening.

But before Elena was called in on the carpet to be questioned about the kill, she was finding herself yet again in a sparsely lit bar, drinking with two of her fellow Turks in training.

The room was half full, not causing much work for the pretty brunette behind the bar. Elena had been served by the girl many a time. She was soft, feminine, and always kind to them. Elena wanted to shoot her in the face.

She had unbuttoned her jacket, the top of her shirt as well, loosened her tie, happily patting away on a cigarette. “I’m feeling randy tonight”, she said as she poured herself another drink. Her companion Turk in waiting with the short black hair laughed. “Shouldn’t be a problem for you. Pretty sure you can pick any man in this establishment to go with you.”

She snorted, cigarette between her teeth. “Any man?” She scouted the room. “Well, that gentleman with the dark hair is rather handsome” she said, blowing smoke. Her other companion laughed. “Look at his hand. He is married.”

Elena saw now. She was intrigued. “You said any man.”

Her companion with the black hair nodded.

“What do I get? For succeeding?”

He laughed. “I’ll buy our vices for the entire of next month.”

Elena grinned, butted her cigarette and picked up another. “This isn’t even a challenge.”

“And off she goes!” The boys laughed and shook their heads. Had they been sober, they might have reminded her of the few morals left in her. But they were neither sober, experienced nor known to love, as with all other Turk recruits: One of the criteria for even having your application considered was to not be in, or preferably never having been in a relationship. Had you, the outcome of said relationship was a source for detailed questioning. Having experienced failure with family was nothing but a plus, as long as the recruit had a good weakness, like craving somewhere to belong or a comfortable life. Elena’s vice was her drive to be better - at anything.

Walking up to the bar, Elena did not ask if the seat was taken, or if the man had a light. She kept the cigarette between her fingers as she pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and smoothed it out on the bar. “One more”, she told the girl. “Also - do you have a pen?”

She thanked the girl for the pen with a bright smile, putting the cap between her teeth, holding it there, cigarette still in her left hand as she scribbled on the paper with her right.

She knew she had caught his interest. He was drawing small circles with his whiskey glass on the bar.

Elena stopped her scribbles and held up her cigarette. “Oh, would you -” but the girl was of course away getting them a new bottle.

“You need a light?” the man said.

A laughter pressed against her throat. _So easy._ She put the pen lid down on the bar. “Thanks”, she said, holding out the cigarette, catching it with her lips as he lit.

Through the small flame she studied his face: He was around thirty-five, soft brown eyes to match the somewhat lengthy dark, almost black hair framing the top part of his face. He wore a neatly trimmed beard and a dark suit, tie pulled down.Through her spirit haze and the cigarette smoke, Elena could still tell he smelled nice. When she pulled back, she blew the smoke towards the bar, still looking at him.

“You look like a man with sense for quality”, she said, nodding a thanks to the girl for the bottle.

He frowned, smiling. “How so?”

“You’ve realized good company is hard to find, so if no acceptable company can be found, you would rather have none.”

The man turned back to his whiskey, grinning. “Alternatively, I have no one to drink with.”

“That’s impossible”, Elena said, cigarette in her mouth as she was again scribbling on her paper. “Good looking men like you can have any company they wish.”

He snorted. “That’s flattering”, he said, but his eyes were curious.

“I am not a woman of quality”, she said, gesturing towards her fellow Turks in training. Looking back at the man, they both laughed.

The man looked at her in silence for a good few moments. “I’m Bill”, he said. Elena nodded. “Elena.”

“Say Elena - if you bring your friends their drink, can I reveal my knowledge on quality to you over a glass of something nicer than whatever is in that bottle?”

When Elena returned to him, he had removed the ring.

¨

For every step they took towards his treachery, she knew what he was thinking. _This is completely innocent:_ When he asked her to share a drink with her. When he conversed with her. When he decided to stay for another drink, and then another. When he asked her to join him to sit by one of the tables in the corner instead of by the bar. When he first touched her hair, when he put his hand on her thigh. He had not yet mentioned the wife, as expected. He was now at the point where he would start ranting about his complex family life, if he was ever to do so.

But Elena had filled his head with grand thoughts about himself; he had already gone from _this is completely innocent_ to _it’s only this one time_. When they left the bar, laughing, he pressed her up against the wall outside, kissing her greedily. Elena moaned as girly as she could, both then, and later, in the small room of the inn, when he entered her. He was far from a terrible fuck: he was of a decent size, his body well toned, and most of all, he appeared to not have been laid for years; his moans were all a series of appreciation.

As Elena laid on her back, watching him as he was filling her with small sparkles, she felt the twisted joy of conquest, of taking something from someone else, which they had failed to hold onto.

Elena had won.

The weakness and shame was now imprinted on this Bill, along with the imprint of insignificance left on his wife. Elena’s victory would be forever.

¨

The following morning she was called into the office of none other than the leader of the Department of Administrative Research. Standing in front of the heavy, wooden door, she straightened her tie and smoothed her hair before knocking.

Tseng was sitting by his desk in the middle of the room, raven black hair smooth down his back, tie as well as posture completely straight as he took notes with a black, high quality pen.

He did not lift his gaze as Elena entered the room and closed the door behind her.

He inhaled, exhaled. “Elena.”

“Sir.”

He kept writing for a few more moments, then put the pen down, aligning with the top of the sheets of paper in front of him with both hands. He reached to his right and pulled out a piece of paper.

“Sector two, the night before the previous. One man, two bullets. Does this information mean anything to you?”

Elena did not know if she could afford a lie by those words. They were vague enough to shrug off, but the carpet felt heavy under her feet, and then there was Tseng, yet to look at her, still staring a hole into her flesh.

Elena was still thinking on how to word her answer. “I assume you had your reasons, but I will have your honest answer.”

Elena cleared her throat. “It was nothing he did not ask for.”

“I assume you had business down in those slums, then?”

This question was harder to answer. Elena had no proper explanation to what she was doing down in the slums, other than seeking trouble. The alternative was she was working up a nasty drug habit, which was an answer more likely to take her out of a job than the honest one.

“Nevermind”, Tseng said. “I do not care to know why you placed two bullets in this man, as I do not care to know why you decided to take one of the head scientists of Shinra Urban Development Departments to your bed last night. He went with you on his own free will, and I can not blame you for his weakness. Hopefully his personal issues will not interrupt his work.”

Elena felt the rug burn under her toes.

“His marriage might now come or not come to an end because one of them had a weakness, a weakness which you found and exploited.“ Tseng leaned back and looked at her, folding his hands in his lap, his expression completely blank. “For two parties working together, both will always have their weakness, a weakness that is a constant threat to their union. Do you know why Reno and Rude work so well together, Elena?”

Elena stared at the rug. It had an interesting pattern going on right in front of her toes. Tseng did not wait for her reply. He pulled his chair back, stood up and turned to face the tall windows, hands resting behind his back.

“Rude can tell when Reno is about to drift into delirium. The man tends to take it too far from time to time. He loves a grand buildup and a grand explosion far too much for anyone’s good. Rude will stop him when he fails to focus on getting the job done efficiently.” He shifted his weight, looking up towards the clouds. “Likewise, Reno will push through when Rude gets too detailed. Do you understand what I’m saying, Elena? They wouldn’t be able to hinder each other from failing if they did not know each other’s risks for doing so.”

Elena stood in silence. She knew what he was getting at.

“I accept it, Elena. The misandry. But I believe it makes you a flawed agent. An agent hurting for fun is never a good agent.”

“I don’t hurt for fun”, Elena tried interrupted him. Tseng’s dark eyes turned towards her, seeing straight through her.

“What is listed in your profile as your biggest weakness, Elena?”

“My strive to be best, Sir. At anything.”

“This is your _good_ weakness. And I still believe it is greater than your particular interest in men. Do you?”

Elena pondered, both on his question and how he chose to word it. Her rage usually sharpened her, made her better, faster, edgier; but it also made her ruthless. She should not have shot that man in the skull, it was what revealed her crime. But it was the same rage that had her shoot him in the knee that later had her shoot him in the skull, and it was her hate for his kind that made her shoot him in the first place. This weakness was fairly new to her. Her other had followed her from childhood: Elena knew she could be the best of the best and had seeked it for as long as she could remember.

“Yes”, she answered honestly.

Tseng nodded. “For that, I will keep you. In fact, there might be work for you quite shortly. But I will accept nothing but complete loyalty.” His eyes were piercing her. “To me.”

Her eyes slowly seeked his. “Do you think you can do this, Elena?”

“I… yes.”

“Good.”

He pulled out his chair and sat down by his desk. “You are dismissed.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Elena turned for the door, slowly. As she put a hand on the door handle, she turned.

“A question, Sir?”

Tseng did not look up. “Go on.”

“If agents work better from knowing this about each other… then may I ask, what is _your_ weakness, Sir?”

His expression remained straight. “I don’t always disengage agents when I should.”

Elena swallowed.

“Don’t let them exploit my weakness, Elena.”

Her voice was coarse. “I won’t.”

Even for Tseng having gone back to his paperwork, leaving the room she still felt as if his eyes were burning a hole in her. She could not bring herself to hate it.

 


End file.
